


in dreams there is truth

by Daniela_is_not_amused



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alive Starks (ASoIaF), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya Stark Feels, Big Brother Jon Snow - Freeform, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Happy Starks (ASoIaF), Jon Snow Feels, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Minor Jon Snow/Ygritte, Protective Siblings, Sick Arya Stark, Sickfic, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-12 04:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniela_is_not_amused/pseuds/Daniela_is_not_amused
Summary: Arya had always been cuddly when she was sick, so Jon wasn’t really surprised when, fifteen minutes after he retired to bed, he heard his door open and stockinged feet shuffle in.ora cute, short sicfic featuring my two favourite starks (no slash, they're siblings, yall)





	in dreams there is truth

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. Not beta-read. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Arya had always been cuddly when she was sick, so Jon wasn’t really surprised when, fifteen minutes after he retired to bed, he heard his door open and stockinged feet shuffle in. 

‘Catelyn will kill us both if she catches Arya out of bed’, Jon thought and he felt his blankets lift and the mattress dip as Arya laid down next to him, groaning lightly at her aching muscles.

“You really are an octopus, aren’t you?” Jon grumbled, rolling onto his side to face Arya, allowing her to scoot even closer. “A typhoid octopus—” he reached out and felt Arya’s forehead “—with a fever.”

Arya stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout, half her face smushed into a pillow. “I can’t sleep,” she whined quietly. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” Jon let his hand drop from Arya’s forehead to the back of her neck, massaging gently. Arya seemed inclined to agree, sighing as she relaxed into the soft bed. She turned onto her stomach, giving Jon access to her back and shoulders, too, which made Jon snort in laughter.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Jon asked, concern and sympathy in his voice. He hated it when Arya couldn’t sleep because it was never just for one night at a time, but weeks, until Arya was to her breaking point and Jon had to stage an intervention, pulling out all the stops to knock Arya out. Being sick didn’t make sleep easier, but it did make Arya’s patience and stamina wear out faster.

Arya opened her eyes, sensing the change in Jon’s voice. “Yeah. Everything hurts.”

“Ok. Have you taken your medicine?”

Arya nodded and Jon sighed. “Well, that’s ok,” he lied. “Didn’t you read the instructions? They say take with a full glass of water and plenty of snuggles. Come here.”

Arya huffed a weak laugh. “Never thought I’d hear you say ‘snuggles,’” she said, but she slid closer to the center of the bed, meeting Jon halfway.

Jon wasn’t sure when the feel of Arya — bony and gangly and a little too warm — pressed into his side became so familiar, but it felt like the first notes of his favorite song, the cherished scent of Ygritte’s shampoo. The second they settled against each other, Jon let himself relax into this little piece of home. 

“Speak to your audience, as Father says” he murmured into Arya’s hair. “You love ‘snuggles.’ It makes you think of snakes hugging, which for some reason is incredibly amusing to you.”

Arya laughed again, sounding a little delirious. Her fingers sought out Jon’s sleeve and held tight. “They don’t have arms, Jon.”

Jon rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. He rubbed a palm up and down Arya’s spine.

“Tell me about your trip. With Gendry and Hot Pie. Where did you guys decide to go?”

He counted Arya’s heartbeats. A little faster than Jon would like, but not concerning. He should be able to get Arya to sleep within ten minutes. He started the timer in his head.

“We were thinking about King’s Landing, but Gendry mentioned doing a humanitarian trip, so now we’re leaning towards The Bay of Dragons. There’s a nice program that lets us build schools and hospitals there.”

Jon opened his eyes and looked down at Arya, fever color high on her cheeks and her hair a rat’s nest from tossing and turning and refusing to sleep in her own bed because she was sick. Arya, who was going to go to the South and do service for her senior trip.

She was too perfect. Jon could live a hundred lifetimes being a soldier, a part of the Night’s Watch, give every cent his parents left him to charity, and he would still never deserve to be Arya’s big brother. Because he was doing it for redemption. And Arya did it because she could and therefore must.

“You’re too good for this world, little sister,” Jon whispered.

Arya’s lips spread into a gigantic smile and Jon could practically feel the heat radiating from her face.

“I’m really no-”

“Where would you pick?” Jon interrupted before this conversation could get too sentimental. He was already painfully aware of his heart right now; how it stilled in his chest when he looked at Arya, how it raced, completely out of his control, at any sign of pain or sadness in Arya’s face, how it swelled with pride at everything Arya did. If he had to talk about it, he feared that it might just jump straight out of his mouth and offer itself to Arya so Jon would stop beating around the bush.

He wasn’t supposed to love her like a sister. Afterall, she was Arya Stark, the youngest Stark girl, and he was Jon Snow, a bastard not deserving of his Father’s name, taken under Eddard Stark’s care at birth.

Arya hummed in confusion, a little taken aback.

“Anywhere in the world, kid, where would you pick to go? And I know you’ve never done this before in your life, but don’t worry about anyone else. Where would _ you _go?”

“Oh,” Arya said. She settled into the pillows again, her face screwed up as she thought. Jon couldn’t stop himself from brushing a lock of hair out of Arya’s eyes. “West, I think. I want to get out of Essos, to travel across the sea and see what’s out there.”

Jon grinned. “You’ll love the sea, kiddo. We can go to Rhaegar’s hometown-”

“We?” Arya interrupted, eyes open again.

'Idiot', Jon cursed himself.

“Or you and Gendry and Hot Pie,” he quickly corrected, not looking at Arya. “I’d be happy to help you with the expenses-”

“No, no, no. Jon.” She pressed herself more firmly into Jon’s chest, but Jon still didn’t look at her. “I would love to go with you. That sounds… unbelievable. I just kind of thought this was hypothetical.”

Jon blinked, finally met Arya’s eyes again. “When have I ever been hypothetical, Stark?”

Arya grinned, muscles loosening and eyes bright with feverish affection now that she knew hadn’t upset Jon. “Never.” Her eyes closed as Jon tucked strands of hair, curling with sweat, behind her ear. 

“So where did Rhaegar grew up?”, Arya asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A little island known as'' The Edge of the World”,” he said, watching Arya’s eyes drop. “Father told me he grew up in a village near the sea”

He ran his hand along Arya’s back again, bent his head low so he was murmuring in Arya’s ear. Arya instantly melted into him, his head pressed warm and heavy over Jon’s heart.

“My mother used to go for a month every summer, long before she met Rhaegar. Just her and no one else. She would spend a week at a tiny vineyard. The nearest town was on a hilltop, with medieval walls all around it. She’d go to church in the square, and then go to the village’s only coffee shop next door. She’d call Father every day from there and he would beg her to return everyday.”

Arya gave a breathy laugh. Jon paused in his story and counted Arya’s heartbeats again. Slower, calmer. They were getting there.

Jon didn’t usually talk about his parents. He usually avoided thinking about it and how messed up it was, but those months in that tiny little island were some of the happiest of his mother’s life because Robert hadn’t been there. Once he was old enough to understand what had happened to his mother, he hadn’t wanted to talk about her at all. It hurt too much.

Telling Arya didn’t hurt though. Telling Arya felt natural and cathartic and tender.

“I’ll take you there,” Jon promised, and felt Arya’s smile curve against his chest. “We can go in June, when it’s not too humid. We’ll get a car and drive. The lemons will be in season, and if you roll the windows down you can smell them in the air.”

Arya’s breathing was getting deeper. Jon lowered his voice.

“We’ll go to other villages as well and you can eat your weight in ice cream.”

“Jungle,” Arya mumbled. Jon swallowed, his heart skipping. He loved her. He loved his little sister like he loved no one else and he desperately hoped Catelyn wouldn’t stand between them like she had with all the other Stark children. 

“We’ll explore the jungle,” Jon agreed after a moment. “We can be cheesy tourists and take a land cruiser. See the wildlife and take lots of pictures”

Arya hummed in contentment, too far gone to form words.

“I know the best trails. I’ve been planning to go there for years now.”

He paused again. Arya’s heartbeat was slow and even, her breaths heavy with sleep.

“Sleep well, Arya,” Jon whispered. “I’ll be here, watching over you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
